


What would Jesus do?

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: ? - Freeform, Fluff, Humanstuck, M/M, Mute Dave Strider, This has nothing to do with Jesus btw, davekat - Freeform, dorks being dorks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:32:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave meets Karkat at a church's youth club meeting that neither of them want to be at.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What would Jesus do?

Bro gives you a hard look from the driver’s seat as you step out of the car and slam the door shut. He rolls down the window to antagonize you some more.

“I’ll pick you up in three hours. Text me if you need anything, or if you found Jesus or whatever.”

What an asshole, you think as you watch him drive away. You know damn well that neither of you believe in this sort of stuff, but this little ‘visit’ to the church down the street from your apartment was served to you as punishment for being an idiot.

A few hours earlier you had gotten home from a particularly trying day at school and noticed an eloquently written note waiting for you on your bedroom door that had a long list of gross and boring chores that had been assigned to you that night. You decided to lay down for a few minutes and see if you could catch some Z’s before Bro came home. That idea was an utterly stupid one now that you look back at it because you slept through your alarms and awoke to practically suffocating in a pile of plush, neon puppet ass and a very pissed-off looking guardian.

So here you found yourself at the local church’s weekly ‘Youth Club’ meeting. You can think of only two places you wouldn’t rather be and those are school and hell which are practically the same thing. You pull your hood over your head and stuff your hands in your pockets in hopes it will make you look like an asshole so nobody talks to you. Mostly just because you want to avoid any awkward exchanges of having to explain to someone who probably doesn’t know sign language that you physically can’t speak. The last thing you want is a repeat of what happened when you started high school. Multiple teachers just assumed you were being insubordinate when they asked you something and you came home with 4 detentions on the first day of school. 

Making your way up the sidewalk and in the large doors you pass several people that look way too cheery for being forced to wear those weird robes. They direct you into a large room about the size of a school gymnasium. The space is filled with kids ranging from elementary schoolers making friendship bracelets to teenagers with black hair and lip piercings leaning against a far wall with earbuds in looking just as bored as you.

You pick what looks like to be the last empty table near the back and sit yourself down, not really sure what else to do with yourself. Not like you cared if anyone you knew saw you sitting by yourself like a total loser. You honestly prefered it to going around and having to silently mingle with people who probably hated you already.

After a few minutes of leaning on your hand and staring at the same stain on the wall, an adult makes his way onto the stage followed by two other kids. You assume he’s the pastor, or priest or whatever the fuck judging by his robes. He hushes the room until he can speak without having to should to be heard.

“We wish to welcome you and thank you all for coming tonight. I hope everyone has a wonderful time tonight even if you have not previously attended before. It’s never too late to--”

The man starts to talk about God and your attention is gone from him almost instantly. You focus on the two boys standing awkwardly behind him. The taller one of them, dressed in a tacky bright red sweater and most likely older than the other stands with his arms neatly clasped behind his back. His hair is gelled in all the wrong places and he has a stupidly naive smile on his face and something about him just throws you off.

The smaller one, however, looks like he would rather be gouging out his own eyes than be up there on that stage. His arms are crossed over his chest and he refuses to make eye contact with anyone, choosing to stare at a spot on the floor. He’s wearing a sweater as well, but his is a drastically more inconspicuous shade of gray. You get the vibes that this kid is one of those ‘You’re a disappointment to the family’ kids. The two look similar enough to be brothers, or even twins. Probably belonging to the pastor who is still talking for some reason.

You tune out for a few more minutes, choosing instead to examine some of the crudely drawn portraits on the wall near where the younger children are. When your brain registers the fact that nobody is talking anymore, you glance back up at the stage and see that both the kids and the pastor are gone.

The feeling of regret for not bringing headphones or hell, even a coloring book starts to bother you. You just need something to keep your mind occupied for the next couple of hours. A coloring book and some crayons probably wouldn’t be too hard to snag from the kids, but that would risk someone starting to cry and all heads being pointed towards you which you did not want.

Suddenly, something hits you in the back of the head and you turn around to start telling someone off for bothering you before you notice the two brothers from earlier a few feet away. The harsh tones and raised voices make it sound like they’re arguing and the one in red tells the one in gray not to throw things. You look down at the ground to see what hit you. A small rainbow colored wrist band sits on the floor under your seat and you reach down to pick it up. The words “What would Jesus do?” are written on the side of it and you hastily glance around to make sure nobody sees you pocket it, to save for ironic uses, of course.

You barely notice it when the smaller boy plops down in the seat across from yours. The taller one seemed to have gone off to talk with some other, older looking kids. You look down at the boy’s head. His hair is literally just a mop of black, fluffy shit. You kind of want to run your hand through it. But that would be weird, so instead you just reach out and poke it.

His head flies up before you can even pull your hand back all the way.

“Oh my fucking god, just leave me--” he cuts himself off, raising an eyebrow at you suspiciously before continuing, “Uh, sorry about that. Thought you were someone else.”

He sighs and rests his head on his arms, looking up at you. He’s probably waiting for you to say something, so you just sit there and stare back at him.

“...Did you need something, or are you just trying to make my life even more of a living hell than it’s already become?”

His tone sounds a lot more irritated now, so you and pull out your phone and type a simple “nope” into the notes and slide it across to him.

Confusion washes over his face as he takes the phone and reads it. You go to lean on your arm to look as casual as possible, but you miss the table, and thus completely ruin the ‘casual’ thing. Quickly recovering, you look back at him. He didn’t even seem to notice, still staring at the phone.

“Why did you give me this?” he asks, glancing up at you. You take the phone back and type in “i cant speak you dumbdumb” before sliding it back.

As he reads it, his eyebrow quirks again.

“So… you just don’t talk then?” he asks.

Getting in a rhythm of passing the phone back and forth, a conversation actually starts to pick up.

“not since birth. vocal cords developed all whacky”

“Well that is a fucking relief. I’ve had my ears talked off countless times just tonight.”

What surprises you is that he doesn’t go further than that. Most people ask a bunch of invasive questions, like ‘What happened? Is it ever going to be fixed? What’s it like?’ and blah, blah, fuckin blah.

“was that douchelord in the tacky christmas sweater your brother or something”

“Sadly, yes. I came over here to get some peace and quiet before I just up and fucking blew a fuse or something.”

“right okay anyway whats your name”

He pauses a second and gives your face a long look before finally responding again.

“Karkat. And who are you, then? Mister Slim Shady?”

He gestures at your shades and gives you an incredulous look.

“pretty close its actually david elizabeth strider but you can call me dave”

He squints his eyes at you like he doesn’t believe your middle name is Elizabeth. You usually don’t tell people this, but this guy seemed like he needed something to laugh at and you consider yourself damn good at making people laugh. Although, this guy doesn’t seem like the type to be impressed by clumsy drawings of dicks so you do the next thing on the list.

You take the phone back before he has a chance to reply and type “hey what happens when a frogs car breaks down” and slide it back.

After he reads it, he gives you an eyeroll and mutters, “What?”

“”it gets toad”

His face morphs into complete disbelief and he slams his head down right back into his arms and you swear you can see him lightly shaking with laughter, which you reciprocate in a small fit of wheezy breaths before remembering how awful your laugh sounds and quickly stopping. His head lifts up off the table and he’s rolling his eyes again but he’s smiling nonetheless.

“Just for the record, I’m laughing because the joke was so painstakingly horrible, not because it was funny,” he says, resting his chin on the back of his hand.

You nod as sarcastically as you can like you totally believe him. After that, the conversation seems to come to a slightly awkward silence until Karkat speaks again.

“Hey, stay here for a minute. I’ll be back,” he says, getting up and walking away, leaving you by yourself at the table. You turn and watch him walk over to the children’s area. He probably had the same idea as you did earlier, except he appears to be asking a little girl politely for a coloring book and a box of crayons. The girl laughs at something he said and she hands the book and box over to Karkat. His head turns back to you nod your approval as he starts to walk back towards you. 

When he reached your table, he sits back down in his spot across from you and sets the coloring book in between the two of you. It has a princess on the cover. You reach for the box in his hand and dump the crayons out on the table, then flip to a random page in the book. The page you open to happens to be a detailed picture of a particularly glamorous princess dress, which you begin coloring immediately.

Karkat snickers at you before he knocks your elbow out of the way so he can color as well. You give him another glance through your shades and just now do you realize that through his dark hair you can see two dazzlingly red eyes, almost exactly like yours. You bet his hair is close to the same color as yours, but he probably dyes it. Hair as white as yours isn’t all that common. You also note how his tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth when he’s trying to concentrate and honestly, if you had to think of one word to describe him in this particular moment, it would probably be “adorable”. That seems like a pretty good adjective to describe his face in general. It was the perfect combination between sharp angles and slightly rounded corners. You wonder if this is normal stuff that guys think about. Probably not, but to hell with the miniscule amount of masculinity you have left. You’ve got a princess to color.

After a few minutes of scribbling on the princess outline, you both deem it decent enough and seek out some tape. By the time it’s proudly displayed on the wall for everyone to see and admire, you get a text from Bro saying he’s outside to pick you up.

You frown a little and quickly type in a message to Karkat and hand your phone over. 

“listen this was great and all but i gotta jet now. if you ever need anyone to shoot the shit with my chumhandle is turntechGodhead”

You think you catch a flash of something in his eyes that you hope is sadness for you having to leave.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll send you a message tonight probably if I’m not ready to just pass the fuck out by the time I get home. Thanks, Dave.”

You give a small smile and wave before heading back outside into the cold night to meet your brother. Apparently he notices that you have a stupid grin on your face because as soon as you climb into the passenger seat, he asks you if you met anyone “special”.

You roll your eyes and punch him in the shoulder while lightly nodding.


End file.
